Britain ... - Blue-Lite

334 THE VARANGIAN. [Act III.
Those iron collars slip, our necks will soon
With such strong gyves be galled, as shall uplift
Us to a pitch far higher than my aims.
My poor ambition seeketh not acquaintance
With soaring crows and ravens.
BEN-ZADOC.
Should those base slaves
Our valiant men of war gone forth to prowl
the dark wilderness themselves arouse
Through
To battle for their freedom, we must draw
The sword of slaughter, as great Joshua did,
Nor one o' th 1
unclean and Christian Gentiles spare.
Men, maidens, wives, and children, all shall yield
Their throats to our keen knives. Hark ! hear'st thou not
The distant tramp of numbers ?
TOBIAS.
Jacob's angel
Be near to save us ! 'tis, no doubt, our foes.
These Christians may the curse of Mezroe blight them !
Have our retreat discovered.
BEN-ZADOC.
Nay, thy fears
Deceive thee. Be of courage, man, nor quake ;
But gird thy loins up, like a valiant son
Of Israel's chosen race, and laugh to see
Thy brand made red, red to the very hilt
In Christian blood. The Lord of Hosts for us
Will fight, if peradventure there be need,
As in the days of old.
TOBIAS.
I am a man
Of feeble loins, and little strength for war ;
Yet if I had a host of fighting knaves,